


Blow By Blow

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [79]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, LV Issues, M/M, Prejudice Against Monsters (Undertale), Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, brother issues, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-24 19:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20363677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Set the day after ‘With Brotherly LV’.Jeff is having his first day working at the Embassy, Stretch is having a bad anxiety day, Red is having a bad text day, and Edge is just having a day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My timeline is getting a little wonky due to a few drabble sets and shorts. So this chapter directly follows [With Brotherly LV](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19660045)

* * *

For once, Edge was not surprised that Stretch got up with him on a weekday morning. After last night, he likely wanted to keep Edge close as long as he could, had crept into his arms the moment Edge returned to their bed, heedless of the drying sweat still on his bones.

They'd slept restlessly in each others arms and in a rare indulgence, Edge used the snooze function on his alarm, skipping his morning run to stay buried in the blankets, and Stretch’s arms, for a little longer. 

But the morning eventually needed to be faced. He’d left Stretch sleeping while he showered only to find the bed empty when he came back.  
  
When he went downstairs after dressing, Stretch was in the kitchen, sagged down on the counter in front of the brewing coffee pot with his head resting on his folded arms. Even the ducks on his bathrobe seemed somewhat wilted, the fabric drooping from the haphazardly tied belt.  
  
“It would be more comfortable for you to sleep our bed,” Edge pointed out.  
  
“mmph.” Edge couldn’t tell if that was agreement or a general statement about the day. He patted the back of Stretch’s skull then reached past it for the coffee carafe, pouring out two mugs. In the one cheerfully painted with the chemical formula for caffeine, he added enough creamer and sugar to bring it to a muddy consistency, leaving it on the counter and taking his own black coffee back to the table. There was enough time to skim the newspaper before he needed to leave.  
  
He took a sip of coffee, relying on the Beanery’s special roast to enhance the morning, because stars knew what he said next wasn’t about to. “Would you rather I come pick you up after work tomorrow to see Alphys or do you want to take the bus and meet me at the Embassy?”  
  
“i dunno.” It was muffled into Stretch’s arms to the point of being almost indecipherable and Stretch turned his head to the side to add, “the bus, i guess. no point in you coming home just to go right back.”  
  
Except for the fact that Stretch was very nervous about the upcoming appointment and sitting alone for the long bus ride was not likely to help. Saying that wouldn’t end well, though, and Edge only said, mildly, “I don’t mind. If you want to think about it, let me know what you decide tonight.  
  
"sounds good." Stretch's tone made it clear that he thought it was anything but good. He finally straightened with a groan and reached for the still steaming cup. His contented sigh at that first mouthful of coffee broke off as he turned and Edge frowned as Stretch did an actual spit take, coughing the sip he'd taken back into his cup.  
  
"Are you all right?" Edge asked, rising from his chair in concern. Skeletons didn't really have a gag reflex, he knew it personally and not simply because he was one.  
  
Stretch was staring at him, his mouth open and finally he recovered enough to say, "um, you've got something…?" He gestured vaguely at his face.  
  
Edge plucked a napkin from the holder and wiped at his mouth. "Better?"  
  
"um, no, uh...babe, what the fuck?" His voice rose shrilly as he stumbled forward with one hand reaching out, hesitating before it touched. "The problem isn’t _on_ your face, it_ is _your face! did red hit you last night?" Orange was starting to bleed into his pale eye lights, a visible sign of his anger rising.  
  
Edge could only stare at him in bewildered surprise. "Of course not, my brother wouldn't hit me." Not with his hands, at any rate.  
  
"yeah, okay." Stretch scrabbled his phone out of his robe pocket. A couple quick taps and he handed it over in selfie mode.  
  
What it showed made Stretch’s reaction seem far more reasonable. Edge traced a gloved fingertip down the side of his face with resigned dismay. There was an ugly bruise around his right socket, leaving a crow's wing of swelling darkness down the side of his face all the way to his jawline.  
  
Ah. One of those attacks must have caught him hard enough to bruise. He hadn't even noticed.  
  
Edge shook his head and handed the phone back. “I was using one of the private exercise rooms, I didn’t even notice I’d done this.” Not quite a lie.  
  
From the thinly veiled skepticism in Stretch’s look, he believed exactly none of that, “how the fuck do you not notice getting half your face smacked off?” He blew out a sharp breath, letting it go. “okay, okay. have a seat, babe, i'll heal it a little for you."  
  
Edge resisted the pressure of the hand on his shoulder urging him towards a chair. "I'm already running late, you can do it tonight."  
  
Stretch only looked at him in disbelief. "uh, yeah, no, you are not going in to work like that. are you fucking kidding me? my phone will be blowing up in two seconds and i don't have time to explain to the whole town we don't flirt that way.” He pointed firmly at a chair. “sit!”  
  
Edge sat.  
  
The electric surge in the air as Stretch called up his magic so close to him prickled along Edge’s bones. In the past, that would have been a warning, a threat, but his soul knew that magic, the touch of it even sweeter than the scent. Cool fingertips rested against his cheekbone, soothing the bruise even as they warmed. Edge closed his sockets against the rising green glow, sighing as that gentle warmth grew, spreading across his skull. He hadn't even noticed it hurting until the pain leached away, dulling to a barely noticeable throb.  
  
When he opened his sockets again Stretch was looking down at him, dissatisfied. "welp, that's the best i can do for right now. would have been better if i’d caught it right after. It's harder to heal shit once it settles in.”  
  
“I appreciate the effort.” Edge caught his withdrawing hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.  
  
But Stretch was not to be cajoled out of his irritation. He tugged his hand free, flopping down to sit in the opposite chair. “wasn’t only for you but yeah. i’ll try a little more when you get home, but i don’t want to overdo it or it’ll only make it worse. put some ice on it at work, might help.”  
  
"I will." Edge said with infinite patience. It was nerves, and Stretch was going to be jittery and snappish until he heard what Alphys had to say about his tests. “I do need to get going.”  
  
“uh huh,” Stretch emptied his desecrated coffee into the sink and poured another cup, doctoring it with obscene amounts of cream and sugar. Normally, his moans of appreciation would follow his first sip, but this time he leaned against the counter and said, “anyone asks, tell ‘em the other guy looks worse.”  
  
“Thank you for the advice,” Edge said dryly, “but no one is going to ask.”  
  
His allowances for Stretch’s anxiety did not mean he was willing to leave without a kiss. Edge stood, prowling over to Stretch and braced his hands against the counter on either side of his husband, caging him in.  
  
Stretch only smirked, taking an exasperatingly long sip of his coffee, and saying nearly into the cup. “you need something?”  
  
“I do.” Edge let his voice drop to a teasing growl, watched the faint shiver that came from it. “And you can either give it to me or I’m going to take it.”  
  
That lazy smirk widened. “ooh, threats. think you’ve already been playing a little too rough, babe.” But he set his coffee aside, his cup-warmed hands gentle on Edge’s healing bruises as he ducked his head and offered a kiss.  
  
Edge lingered too long on that coffee-sweetened mouth, sighing as he drew away. He looked into that beloved face and said sternly, “Behave yourself today.”  
  
That earned him an agreeable enough hum, until he started out the door and Stretch called after him, “i will if you do.”  
  
That was either a promise or a threat, and Edge could only hope the universe didn’t attempt to make good on it either way.  


* * *

  
His first stop of the day was only a short drive from their house. Edge pulled into the driveway, absently noticing the well-manicured flower beds and making a note to ask what the orange-tipped blossoms were.  
  
He knocked briskly on the door and instead of Blue, Jeff answered, already dressed in a shirt and tie that Edge knew were probably fresh from the iron. Jeff wouldn’t know it, but he’d personally pushed through an advance on Jeff’s salary to allow for him to buy some new clothes, and if they were more off the rack than Edge preferred for himself, he well understood how difficult it was to break free from years of frugality.  
  
“Hey, what’s up? I was going to ride in with Blue— holy shit, are you okay?” Jeff’s amicable greeting screeched to a halt, blue eyes widening as he caught sight of his Edge’s face.  
  
"I'm fine,” Edge waved away his second dose of concern this morning. “Stretch healed the worst of it."  
  
“It looked worse?" Jeff asked doubtfully at the same time Blue wandered into the living room and began, “Oh, hello, Edge, I—what in the world happened!”  
  
Edge sighed. This had the makings of a very long day. He waited patiently as Blue ran out, the kitchen door rocking on its hinges, barely slowing by the time Blue bustled back through it with a disposable ice pack. He twisted it briskly to activate it, gesturing for Edge to kneel down.  
  
Arguing would probably take longer than simply accepting the fussing and with some bemusement, Edge crouched. Suddenly, Stretch’s tendency to grudgingly accept his brother’s coddling made more sense. He hissed at the cold against his skull, pressed gently to the bruising.  
  
“This is a several hours old, why didn’t you call me?” Blue fussed, his eye lights stark with disapproval.  
  
“I didn’t notice it,” Edge sighed, tipping his skull obediently to allow Blue to inspected it. “Your brother healed some of it this morning.”  
  
“I can tell, I can still feel his magic signature. There’s no point in me trying more, he did the best that could be done.” There was a certain warm pride in his voice and Edge wished Stretch was here to hear it. He never believed he was as skilled a healer as Blue.  
  
“Keep the ice on it and if Papy isn’t up to trying again tonight, I can,” Blue added. “Now, can I assume you’ve come to steal my roommate away?”  
  
“I have,” Edge agreed, glancing at Jeff who was standing awkwardly, trying to both watch and not. “There are a few things we needed to go over this morning and my drive in is all the time I can spare.”  
  
Blue only nodded. He understood very well how important Edge’s work was. He took Edge’s hand, settling it pointedly over the ice pack to hold it against his skull and bustled back to the kitchen. The lunch bag he returned with was sleek and professional, and Edge watched with amusement as he handed it to Jeff, rambling about the contents; food and medicine, reminders for Jeff to call if he felt ill or needed any help.  
  
That Jeff accepted it all patiently, even happily, was only another indicator of what Edge already knew. That beneath the cheap tie and crisply ironed shirt lay the soft green of a compassionate soul.  
  
Edge allowed Blue to fuss a moment longer, then broke in, “We do need to be going.”  
  
“Yes, yes,” Blue agreed absently. “But if you need anything—”  
  
“I’ll call,” Jeff said with a hint of amusement. “It’s only for half a day.”  
  
“I’ll look out for him,” Edge threw in. He supposed he deserved the look Blue gave him, his starry eye lights lingering pointedly on the ice pack.  
  
It took another minute to detangle Blue’s apron strings enough to get back to the car and Edge nearly sighed in relief as he closed his door, tossing the ice pack on the center console.  
  
Jeff was close behind, already buckling his seatbelt. He fidgeted as Edge started the car, for a moment almost absurdly reminiscent of Stretch as he toyed with his tie. “Do I look okay for my first day?”  
  
“You look fine.” His nervousness was almost endearing, though Edge did take a hand off the wheel long enough to stop him from wrinkling the tie any further. “Jeff, forgive me for overstepping, but if you ever wanted to wear a skirt, no one at the Embassy would think anything of it.”  
  
That stopped his fidgeting completely, but discomfort was not the hoped-for replacement. “How did you…never mind. Of course you do. Um, thank you? Sometimes I just…like it…but…I don’t think I could.”  
  
Edge only nodded understandingly. “I’m aware that the Human community can be strange about these things if it isn’t for, say, a thrift store competition. I simply wanted you to know that tasteful clothes are acceptable whether you feel the day is one for trousers or a skirt. Monsters aren’t going to question your choices, your gender, or your sexuality.”  
  
The discomfort didn’t ease and Edge let it go at that. He’d said his piece and Jeff’s choices after were his own. But making Jeff uncomfortable when he was already nervous had not been his intention and he regretted not waiting to bring it up. Thus far, his entire morning had been less than a success story.  
  
A subject change was in order. “How has it been living with Blue?”  
  
That seemed to be the right approach. Jeff brightened visibly. “Great, actually. Blue is really nice and he’s a really good cook…not that you aren’t a good cook!” Jeff added hurriedly, as though Edge would be offended if Jeff admitted to liking anyone else’s cuisine.  
  
“I’m very familiar with Blue’s skills and I agree, he is a good cook.” His preferences were for more homey meals, filling recipes of soups and pot pies whereas Edge preferred something with spice. Stretch never complained about either of their offerings, but then, it wasn’t a competition. At least it wasn’t to Edge.  
  
Jeff seemed relieved that he hadn’t taken offense, but his expression was still clouded. “Stretch was a little…odd, when I said I was moving in. He’s not mad, is he?”  
  
“Not at all.” Concerned was a more appropriate term. The day they’d learned about Jeff and Blue’s plan, Stretch had been near-manic in his worry, pacing the living room for hours broken only by occasional outbursts.  
  
“you know how blue is!” Stretch said during one of them. “babe, if you’re a mama bear, blue is a general waging war with soup and pillows! i’d ask him to see a therapist except first he’d have to admit something was wrong.” He’d flopped down on the sofa then, curling up against Edge’s side in a silent plea for an embrace that Edge was glad to offer. “at least i always admitted i was fucked up.”  
  
His attempts at comforting Stretch had been flawed by his own worries. It would either be good for them both or the worst idea possible, but they were both adults who could make their own choices. Only time would tell.  
  
Today was definitely not the time to admit his concerns and Edge only said, “I’m glad to hear it’s working out. I did want to tell you that your car will be delivered tonight.  
  
“My…car?” Most of Edge’s attention was on the road, but he spared a glance at Jeff because nothing was going to make him miss the conflicting emotions that clouded his face. It was better even than when Edge gave him the Ipad. Humans were sometimes difficult for him to read, but Jeff was as clear as the windshield in front of him. Confusion, outrage, shame, and beneath it all was what Edge wanted to see in him; one quiet spot of hope.  
  
“Transportation is part of your employment package.” Luckily Jeff wasn’t as adept at catching him in a lie as Stretch. “It won’t be a car like mine, I’m afraid, luxuries need to be purchased with your own salary, but—“  
  
He trailed off as Jeff’s breath hitched, directing his gaze back to the road to give him time to get himself under control. The music from the radio was a counterpoint to those little sniffles, but soon enough Jeff managed, roughly, “Any car would be fine.”  
  
“Dependable rather than flashy is probably best, anyway. I’m sure Stretch will coax you into chauffeuring from time to time.” Possibly. Stretch could be very prickly about asking for rides. And Edge trusted Jeff, hard-earned over the course of the last year, but he couldn’t keep from saying, “Be careful with him in the car. Make sure he does up his seatbelt. Please. If you think the ability to teleport would help in case of an accident, you’d be wrong, their shortcuts don’t defer momentum and—“ and in bad accident, it would do little more than delay death. True, yes, but the words refused to come.  
  
Jeff didn’t tease or mock, only offered a lopsided smile, crossed his finger over his heart the same way Stretch did. “Promise.”  
  
Edge nodded, accepting that. The rest of the ride was quiet and it was only as he parked that Edge’s phone chimed with a text message.  
  
He took the time to walk inside, Jeff at his side with his lunch bag in hand, before he opened it, frowning at the message from his brother.  
  
_hey, boss, why the fuck am i getting poison pen pal texts from your liability?_  
  
Well, it seemed Stretch hadn't been so willing to let it go, after all.  
  
He texted back, _I’ll talk to him._  
  
_sure but answer the question_  
  
Edge ignored that for the moment as they walked up to the security desk, already reaching for his badge. The guard began greeting them automatically, “Good morning…oh!” He sat up straight as he caught sight of Edge’s face, eyes going wide as he scrambled for his radio, “Did the protestors get through the barrier again?!”  
  
“No,” Edge sighed. Jeff was digging for his own badge with far more than the required amount of attention. “I’m fine.”  
  
“But—“  
  
“It wasn’t the protestors!” Edge snapped, swiping his badge with unnecessary force. He stepped quickly into the elevator and held it until Jeff joined him. “Public relations is on the second floor, all the way to the right.”  
  
Jeff nodded and his earlier nervousness was still there, but mostly quelled beneath determination. “Got it.”  
  
The door opened and as Jeff stepped out, Edge said, softly, “You’ll do fine.”  
  
That wide, hopeful smile disappeared behind the closing elevator door. Edge got off on his own floor a moment later, walking towards his office with unseemly haste. No one was in the hallways, but Janice was at her desk, looking up from her computer with a cheery, “Good…gracious! What happened!?”  
  
Edge sighed.  


* * *

  
TBC  



	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Edge’s years in Underfell had prepared him for many difficulties in life. He’d learned how to set up traps to protect his territory, he knew how to stretch a meal for days, providing just enough nutrition without limiting his magic. He knew when to keep quiet and avoid riling the hair-trigger temper of a ruler whose decisions were not always what was best for his people, and he mostly knew how to deal with a brother who could be infuriatingly mysterious, bordering on cruel, even when the decisions he made turned out for the best.

None of that had prepared him to deal with a Bun whose motherly instincts were fiercely roused.

If Edge were asked to describe Janice in one word, he would choose efficient, and efficient was exactly correct to define how she promptly took him over. She was on her feet in an instant and, despite being at least two handspans shorter than him, she hustled him into his office and into the first available chair. 

There was a small minifridge in his office with cans of soda and bottles of juice that Edge offered to guests that he didn’t mind staying. The little tray of ice cubes in it hardly produced enough to fill a single glass, but Janice took it out. Edge watched in confusion as she carried it out of the room with her, but she returned with a small zip-top bag, very likely one she’d emptied of her own lunch. The faint tremble in her hands was alarming, but she dumped the ice neatly into the little bag.

Edge didn’t offer a word of protest throughout, nor did he when she knelt next to him, her soft brown eyes wide with concern as she pressed the bag of ice gently to his face. The only protest he offered was a slight hiss at the cold. Edge was well experienced in battle and even he knew when to surrender. 

“Oh, this must hurt terribly!” Janice fussed as Edge took over the duty of holding an ice pack for the second time that day. 

“It doesn’t,” Edge said honestly. It probably would have been paining him by now if Stretch hadn’t been the one to heal it. Stretch hadn’t healed him often, but enough times that Edge noticed his healing technique focused more on stopping the pain first. It wasn’t the normal focus; most healers would concentrate on the injury…unless they were on a battlefield and their concern was to get the injured soldier back into the fight as quickly as possible without the distraction of pain. He’d never questioned why Stretch learned healing as if he were in combat triage; somehow, he suspected having the answer wouldn’t be worth the price. 

He flinched as Janice gently pressed the backs of her fingers testingly to his cheekbone, forcing himself to relax. As a mother, surely she’d learned some healing techniques. The fur on her fingers was soft enough to be ticklish, and Edge tried to hold as still as he could while she confirmed what Blue had already noted. Stretch had healed the injured bone as much as was possible, for now. 

He’d never felt her magic before. He wasn’t sure how it was for other Monsters, but for him, magic had a distinct scent that always faintly lingered but rose strongly whenever it was used. Red’s was reminiscent of his own, a sharper version of spice. Stretch’s was sweet, thick and honeyed, addictive, at least to Edge. Blue’s was fresh, almost soapy, while Sans was oddly vinegary and Papyrus a subtle, strange spice all his own. 

Janice’s wasn’t as distinct as a smell; the only way Edge could describe it was soft, velvety as her fur as she let it brush over him. 

It faded, leaving him faintly bereft. 

“Was it the protesters outside?” Janice asked hesitantly, and suddenly her trembling made sense. Of course she’d be upset if she thought that, she’d had her own painful experience with those Humans, striking with the force of a literal brick.

“No, no,” Edge said reassuringly. “It was just an accident. This is nothing, it’s only a bruise. It’ll be gone in a few days.” 

Janice only bit her lip, blinking too hard, and Edge was uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t sure how to ease her obvious distress. It was a _bruise_, painful perhaps, but hardly a fatal injury; in Underfell, he doubted anyone would have even noticed it, or if they had, they certainly wouldn’t comment on it.

From her position on the floor, Janice shifted uneasily. “Edge,” she began, slowly. “I know that where you’re from is…different.” That was unexpected; even within his familial circle, Underfell was rarely brought up. The Monster community wasn’t completely unaware, how else could Asgore explain their existence, particularly with Edge’s LV. They’d kept the details to a minimum, but any interested Monster would know he was from a difficult place. “But, no one has the right to hurt you for any reason, no matter how much they say they care about you. If you need help—"

His astonishment that she’d brought up Underfell made the words take far too long a moment to click. Any irritation he might have felt at the assumption was overwhelmed by a swell of unexpected affection. “Janice, if you’re trying to find a delicate way to ask me if Stretch did this, I can assure you now that he didn’t. He wasn’t even there. It was a sparring accident, that’s all. Truthfully, he was very upset about it.”

“Of course he would be,” Janice exhaled slowly, but her relief was palpable. “He would never…of course. I’m sorry for suggesting—"

“Thank you,” Edge interrupted her flustered apology. He settled a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder at why she’d drawn that particular conclusion on where he’d gained this bruise. Janice didn’t have a spouse, but she did have two children. It wasn’t at all his business, but perhaps Red wouldn’t mind exploring that question. Just in case. Red did always enjoy turning over rocks to see what filth lay beneath them. “I do appreciate your concern.”

He also appreciated her quick nod and the way she briskly climbed back to her feet, dusting off skirt. “Well, then, let me get you today’s schedule. No physical meetings, which might be for the best, but you do have a few scheduled online. Legal sent down a few briefings as well. I’ll bring everything in for you.”

In moments, she’d covered his desk with an orderly stack of papers and folders, swiftly gone over the schedule, and somewhere in that, a cup of coffee appeared for him. She was gone as quickly as she’d come, leaving him alone in his office. Efficient, and Edge never would have suspected that word would fill him with fondness. 

There was enough work here already to keep him busy for most of the day, but there was one thing he needed to deal with before he started. He took a sip of coffee for fortification before pulling out his phone, bypassing his text messages for his contact list. 

The phone rang three times before Stretch answered with a cheery, “ebott association of toxic control, what’s your poison?”

“Stretch.”

“babe!” Stretch said, all bright surprise. As if he hadn’t known who he was talking to from the beginning. Oh, he was in a fine mood, wasn’t he. That mind of his didn’t settle easily and he’d likely been running everything through his head in circles, working himself up. 

Edge flipped through one of the folders on his desk, already looking impatiently for where he needed to sign. “Stop harassing my brother.”

“dunno what you’re talking about.” That breezy tone did not bode well and Edge knew it immediately for what it was. A paper-thin veneer over his actual emotions. This was worse than he’d first thought; Stretch was furious and whether it was at him, Red, or simply the world in general remained to be seen. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Edge said, coolly. He gave up looking at the briefs, flipping the folder closed; this was going to call for far more of his attention than any of them. “Stop it, anyway.”

“i haven’t talked to your brother once today.” Not a lie, of course, damn him, the teleporting triplets took weaving half-truths to an art form. But what Stretch said next chilled him. “maybe i should. wander over, let him know what a shitty job he’s doing at—”

“Do not go over to see Red,” Edge said sharply. His soul stuttered over the very idea of Stretch confronting Red over anything. He loved his brother, knew he wouldn’t hurt Stretch...no. He wanted to believe Red wouldn’t ever hurt Stretch. Physically, certainly not, but Red could wound with words as effectively as he could an attack and those injuries weren’t ones anyone could easily heal. Especially not Stretch, who tended to take cruel words far too much to heart. “I mean it.”

Whatever reaction he was expecting, it wasn’t for Stretch to snap out, “don’t tell me what to do!”

“What I am telling you is not to interfere with my relationship with my brother!” Edge retorted, struggling to keep his voice down. This conversation had spun out of his control from the very first word and he was grappling with gaining it back, trying to ignore the sudden, pained throb deep in his soul. “The same way I would never interfere with yours!”

The silence on the other end of the line was long and sullen. “fine.”

“Promise me.”

That silence was worse. Stretch did not appreciate giving promises like this and Edge knew it, he rarely asked. But the very idea of Stretch confronting Red in the mood he was in right now was chilling him to the depth of his bones. Someone would be irreparably hurt and he was desperate to avoid that, for both of them.

“i promise.” Hissed through gritted teeth and Edge sighed inwardly. There was going to be a price for demanding that promise and he knew from past experience that Stretch would hold a grudge until it was paid. 

“All right,” Edge said, trying for gentle even though his soul was heavy and riled. His LV was responding far too readily to his irritation, like an unlit fuse hunkering in his chest. “I don’t know what scenario you’ve concocted in that head of yours, but it’s not what you’re thinking. Red didn’t hit me. We were sparring together, that’s all.”

He couldn’t help wincing at Stretch’s ugly laugh. “wow, is that what it feels like? getting blatantly lied to? you fucking suck at it, babe, and i’m not stupid. you think i can’t see the difference between a sparring strike and a full-on attack? go on,” he goaded, sweetly mocking, “tell me another lie, see if you can fool me this time.”

His brittle control over his anger broke. “Given recent events, are you sure this is the argument you want to have right now?” Edge snapped. “Because if you’d like to discuss blatant lying, I have a few complaints of my own!”

He regretted it the moment he said it. Blast it, he was letting Stretch’s mood get to him, and his LV was not helping one fucking bit. Last night’s workout had damped it, but not enough, not right now when it was a burning distraction that he did not need.

“Love—” Edge began but the call disconnected. He looked at his phone a long moment, trying to decide whether or not to call back. Finally, he decided against it, tossing his phone carelessly to the side of his desk to bury his face in his gloved hands. He was forced to bite back a yelp at the pressure against his bruises, reluctantly scooping up the melting bag of ice and pressing it to his face.

Damn it all, that hadn’t gone how he’d hoped. He should have known better; Stretch was caught in a kaleidoscope of tense emotions from waiting on Alphys’s tests as it was. All his nerves were as sharp as broken glass, tumbling together in chaos; adding Edge’s problems in was only making it worse. 

He shouldn’t have come in to work, sourly thanking hindsight for that much. There was plenty that needed done but working from home would have been a better choice. He would have if he’d realized exactly how much Stretch was struggling on top of how unexpectedly hard he was taking what Edge saw as merely a bruise. He was learning, too late, that in this Universe people took this sort of injury very seriously. 

Thoughtless of him; he would have reacted the same if he saw Stretch or Janice with such a bruise and he’d been in this ‘verse long enough to know better.

Well, if nothing else, he could count on work as a distraction. Dragging the folder back over, Edge began working his way through the briefs. The tedium was almost like meditation. His soul slowly settled, his riled LV reluctantly easing back its grip. 

Some time later, his phone chimed, but Edge ignored it. He was just settling down; the last thing he needed was a chat with Red to stir things back up again. He drank his coffee and did his job, and his bruised face didn’t hurt, but there was a headache starting to form right between his sockets. 

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Two hours and another coffee later, Edge had worked his way through most of the folders and had a brief web conference with the Economics and Global Affairs. He was starting to think absently of lunch when he heard the commotion from the outer room. 

It was only raised voices so far, Janice’s sharp and very likely protective. Edge couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the other voice came through the door clearly with, “…my fucking brother!”

Perfect, may as well add to the chaos of the day. It was his brother who’d taught him trying to avoid unpleasantries only led them back to haunt you. Edge pressed the intercom button. “Let him in.”

Of course Red would have to make a grand entrance. He could have teleported in and no one would have been the wiser. That meant he _wanted_ Janice to see him, as well as anyone he passed in the hallways. Trying to fathom Red’s reasoning for the things he did was a fool’s game, but all too often it turned out that he was right.

It didn’t mean Edge couldn’t be aggravated about it. 

The door opened allowing Red to shuffle in and Edge frowned. His brother looked tired. His clothes were more rumpled than normal, his jacket pulled close around the same t-shirt he’d been wearing the night before. Dark reddish circles were embedded beneath his sockets, but his endless grin was as wide as ever. That grin had stopped fooling Edge long before he’d been out of striped shirts.

“When did you get in this morning?” Edge kept the question light. It made it more likely for Red to answer than if it were a demand.

True to form, Red only shrugged. “never left last night.”

He bypassed the guest chairs, coming around the side of the desk and when he took Edge’s chin in two sharp fingers, forcibly turning his head, Edge didn’t protest. Using his injury as an excuse to manhandle him was getting to be a habit of the people around him, anyway; his own brother at least should be allowed. 

Unlike any of the others, Red only studied the bruises impassively. “got you good, didn’t i. coulda given you a matching crack.”

No apologies and Edge did not expect one. Instead, he pulled away from his brother’s grip with a scoff, saying dismissively, “Not a single one of your attacks came close to the force necessary to break bone.”

“no?” Red wandered back around to flop into one of the chairs with enough force to send skittering back an inch. “might hafta try harder next time.”

It was incredibly difficult to keep from smiling at that. He shouldn’t be as darkly amused as he was; every other person he’d met today was upset by the bruise, including his husband who was likely still fuming at home. But his brother whom Edge knew loved him, who had sacrificed a great deal for him over the years in so many ways, his _Underfell_ brother, only suggested that perhaps he should try to up the damage. 

He really did love Red.

But thinking of his husband— “Where is Stretch?”

“hm?” Red’s bland confusion at the question was one of the worst lies he’d ever told. “you askin’ me about your liability? dunno, probably at your place.” His grin widened even as one sharp fingertip scraped over the wooden arm of his chair. Edge stifled a wince as he silently mourned the loss, watching curls of wood shavings fall to the floor. But demanding Red stop might tempt him into dangling answers rather than being direct, if only to be aggravating. “see, that’s a good question because it’s been a helluva morning. first, the honey bun shows up on my porch and when he sees i ain’t there, i start getting these interestin’ texts. _dusting_ off some old threats, if you get my meaning.”

He did, all too well. Edge could have done without knowing Stretch already tried to see Red before Edge secured a promise from him and that sheer chance prevented it. Ah, the barriers against peril this morning were conspicuously thin, weren’t they.

“Let me see them.” 

He didn’t hold out much hope on that and it was no surprise that Red only grinned wickedly. “nah. s’between me and him.” Red shifted to lay sideways in the chair, his feet dangling over the newly shredded arm. “your liability has a hell of a mouth on him,” Red said, contemplatively. “or fingers, i guess. does pretty good with those languages, think i learned a coupla new things. his science needs a brush up, though. some of the shit he suggested ain’t physically possible, there’s no way in hell my skull is gonna fit where he wants to shove it.”

And there was a field of landmines to tread carefully over. “He was only worried about me.”

Red slanted a glance his way, his eye lights brightening. "you think i’m mad at him?" He laughed, raucous and loud, pounding his fist on the cushioned seat as if Edge had told a joke filled with offensive references to bodily functions. “for trying to protect you? nah. he’s like a tall version of one of them little weenie dogs who thinks they're a rottweiler. thinks he can do some damage. ‘course they can still give you a hell of an ankle bite. bet your pretty little liability would give it a good ol’ try.”

There was something boastful in that, a sort of pride, Edge realized. Red was terribly smug that Stretch would try to threaten him over his own brother.

Of course he was. He was probably patting himself on the back for ‘helping’ Edge secure such a perfect spouse, the little shit.

Some of Red’s humor faded. “you, now. you might’ve stayed home.” It was mildly said but Edge knew a rebuke when he heard one. “and not just 'cause you look like a walking ad for a new fight club. he’s awful wound up about lizard lady’s tests.”

“I know,” Edge sighed. “I’m not sure why. I’m worried myself, but he’s had lower HP.” And if those thoughts were keeping Edge awake at night, a memory of the last time Stretch had been down to a base of four HP, well, he wasn’t about to bring it up. 

Red sucked on his teeth loudly. “wanna know what i think?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“i think that it ain't about the tests. it’s that he thinks all this shit’s his fault.”

Edge stilled. He blinked once, slowly, breathing in against the sudden raw magic thickening in his throat.

“he’s thinkin’ about how stupid he was to use their little machine alone,” Red went on, and each word stung, “and now he’s let you down, let his bro down, let the whole world down. he’s been stewing about it for a while, i’m bettin’. he gets out of the hospital again, starts doing better, then finds out his hp’s dropped. every time he just gets that little voice in his head to shut up, here it pops up again, like some kinda nasty yo-yo remindin’ him how he fucked up.”

“and then we’ve got you here,” Red waved a careless hand at Edge’s face, “lookin’ like i belted you, and his brain latched on to that shit. this's his chance, right? all ready to protect you from your mean ol' big brother, that'll make it up to you, for sure."

"That's ridiculous, he has nothing to make up for."

Red shrugged. "didn’t say it made sense. honey bun has issues, you knew that before you ever saw what he keeps in his pants."

"I'll thank you to not talk about his pants in any capacity." But Red was wrong about one thing; it made an upsetting amount of sense. Stretch had been trying to avoid telling him about his HP from the beginning because of Edge’s reaction at the hospital. Frightening as it was, he’d kept this to himself, even dragging Red and Sans along to keep quiet about it, though that probably hadn’t taken much persuasion. All because he was afraid of making Edge angry. If this was anyone’s fault, it was Edge’s; in trying to protect Stretch from his temper, he’d hurt him deeper than he’d realized and the memory of Stretch begging him not to leave was still painfully sharp. 

Enough. Assigning blame wasn’t going to help anything, but now he needed to think about what would. Point blank was not going to be effective for Stretch, that much he knew. 

Red was still lying in the chair, his hands folded over his chest as he contemplated the ceiling with unnecessary interest, and the urge to needle that blatantly rude calm was nigh on irresistible. “If only you were as apt at dissecting your own issues as you are others.”

His brother only snorted loudly. “oh, i got myself all dissected, don’t you worry about me, little brother. diagnosis: complete fuck up.”

Edge shook his head, reluctantly amused. “I stand corrected. Have you seen Jeff yet today?”

The chair squeaked as Red turned his skull towards Edge, his sockets narrowed, but he accepted Edge’s reorientation, “not yet.”

“It’s his first day. He was very nervous when we drove in this morning. He’s been through a lot lately. I don’t want him worrying that if he’s a little overwhelmed, his job will be in jeopardy.”

“like you’re gonna fire him?” Red laughed with more honest amusement, “after all the work you put in gettin’ him here?”

Edge allowed a reluctant smile. “Exactly.”

“your side liability is doin’ fine—”

“Don’t call him that!”

“—they’ve had him reviewing press releases all morning, makin’ sure they sound right to a human audience. shit gets lost in the translation, sometimes. he’s not bad, got a decent eye for detail.” 

“Good.” Jeff would likely discuss his first day with Stretch later, hopefully with excitement, but it was good to confirm he wasn’t struggling. 

“welp, can’t say i enjoyed the chat,” Red sagged out of the chair to his feet, already fumbling into his jacket for a cigar. “fuck me, you all are exhausting.” He paused, the slender cigar clenched unlit in his teeth as he dug around for matches. “paps? you need another workout, you call me.” It was not a question and Red waited until Edge nodded. “i’ll try and avoid that pretty face next time. oh, and maybe check your phone.” 

“Brother, don’t you dare…!” Edge started, irritated, as Red lit a match with a flick of his thumb, holding it to the cigar. The first foul curl of odor filled the room even as he shortcutted out, lingering behind him. 

“Asshole,” Edge sighed to no one at all. That pointed little reminder would be hanging out for hours. He started to reach for another folder and paused. His phone was sitting where he’d dropped it, dark and inconspicuous, and he picked it up, unlocking the screen. The last text wasn’t from Red as he’d assumed.

_i’m sorry_

Edge exhaled slowly. That had been over two hours ago, and he could easily picture Stretch curled up miserably on the sofa, waiting for a reply. 

His fingers hesitated over the screen, ready to type out an answer. Instead, he opened the phone app to repeat his last call. The line picked up, but there were no words, only a damp, shuddery breath. He’d been crying and Edge closed his sockets, pained. 

“You don’t have to say anything, love,” Edge told him quietly. “I’m sorry, too. I know you’re worried about, well, a great deal right now. Listen to me, no matter what Alphys has to say, we’ll handle it together. I love you. We can talk about everything else later, anything you want, and I won’t try to lie about any of it. That’s a promise.”

There was no reply, and Edge considered disconnecting, giving Stretch some time to gather himself. But before he could came a single word, “wait.” Small and soft, almost too low to hear. He did, patiently, listening to hitching breaths and sniffles that ached in his soul, until finally there was a faint, “i love you, too.”

It was enough for now. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“okay.” Still too quiet, too subdued, but this time Edge disconnected the call. He held his phone a moment longer until he could force his fingers to uncurl before he broke the glass. The temptation to go directly home was difficult to resist, but he did it anyway. He needed a little time to think, to settle his thoughts and his soul. Stretch might well still be miserable and worried, but going in without a strategy was only going to make things worse. 

And strategy was _his_ strength.

His door suddenly opening caught him off-guard, halfway to forming an attack before he saw it was only Antwan, likely taking advantage of Janice getting coffee to sneak in. “Hey, can we talk a min…what the fuck happened to you!?”

Edge groaned.

* * *

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

No matter his concern, Antwan was smarter than to stand with the door open and risk being caught sneaking in by Janice. On a good day, she did her duty of chasing away undesirables who wanted to ‘drop in’ ferociously and those who earned her wrath lived with their regrets. On a day like today, Edge was very glad to be on this side of the office door.

Antwan had been on her watch list before and he closed the door hastily, making his way to the guest chairs…and stopped, staring at the newly whittled down armrest.

Bemused, he nudged at the wood shavings scattered on the carpet with the toe of one shoe. “What the fuck happened in here? Did the chair attack you?”

"No, you do not,” Edge said firmly.

"I don’t?" Antwan asked with wary confusion. He bypassed the slightly mangled chair and chose the one that was still in an acceptable state, sinking into the leather cushions with a groan. All the impeccable lines of his suit crumpled around him. 

"No. We are not discussing what the fuck happened to me or the chair.” Edge gathered up his finished paperwork briskly and set it in the proper basket. “You came in here to talk about something specific, and we will discuss that and nothing else.” His interest in discussing any of his own personal issues had dwindled into the negative. 

"Ooookay, I'm good with that," Antwan said agreeably. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs to rest his ankle on the opposite knee with fingers drumming against the intact armrest. “Red will tell me later, anyway."

"I suppose it's useless to ask you to stop drinking with my brother."

"Yeah, momma, sorry,” Antwan shrugged. “I need all my lines of communication open and if I buy the good shit, he spills the good shit.” 

"Antwan,” Edge sighed. The headache that had been sending him threats all morning was looming ominously at the gate. “Did you actually want something? Because I do have my own catastrophes to deal with." 

That turned out to be an unexpected misstep. Far from his normal lawyerly arrogance, Antwan promptly looked miserable and started to stand. "I mean, it's not that important—“

"Sit your ass down and talk."

He sank back down, absently plucking a pen from his inside jacket pocket and fidgeting with it in a way more reminiscent of Stretch than Edge was used to with Antwan. “Well, it’s… is that a chicken plushie?"

"Yes." Edge raised a brow bone, silently inviting him to express his concerns over Edge's choice of desktop decor. “Was that really what you wanted to discuss?”

"No, shit, give me a minute…look, you're probably the worst person for me to ask about this," Antwan said bluntly. His face was tight, a deep furrow between his brows. "You hit a home run and got married the first time you stepped up to the plate so what do you know about anything?"

Edge propped his chin on one gloved hand, gazing at Antwan thoughtfully, “This must be why we're such good friends, our mutual respect for each other."

"I respect the fuck out of you, or else I wouldn't be here.” Antwan took a deep breath. “But I’ve been sleeping on a shitty sofa for a week, I’ve gained five pounds with all the food Blue is forcing on me and I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. This is way out of my area of expertise.”

“What is?”

“Jeff!” Antwan threw up his hands in frustration. “Look, I’ve gotten into some slightly weird shit before, okay? Once, I slept with this guy in a band and when I came home from work the next day I found him and bunch of strangers eating everything in my fridge and some girl redecorating my bathroom to make it more feng shui. But this is new territory, I really wasn't expecting my boyfriend to move in with another guy while my back was turned.” He sighed, dropping the pen into the empty seat and rubbing a thumb between his eyes. “Why the hell did you let him move in with Blue, anyway?”

“My apologies, was I supposed to forbid it? Would you rather he stayed at his old apartment while he recovered where anyone with the internet could find his address?” Edge asked calmly. His willingness to accept any blame for that began and ended at no. “Because I gathered he wasn’t willing to move in with you. We were simply offering another option. Then again, if you’d tried asking him to move in when he wasn’t well-drugged and fresh from surgery, you may have had more luck. Perhaps next time you’ll choose a better moment to express your intentions than in a hospital room.”

“How did you..?” Antwan started. His expression soured and he broke off, letting his head drop back with a sigh. “You really piss me off, sometimes.”

“I know, I learned from the best,” Edge said serenely. “Something you’re well aware of since you usually spend Wednesday nights drinking with him. That said, the last I knew, Jeff was down in public relations going over press releases, not in the hospital. Is there anything stopping you from talking to him now, aside from the stairs?”

Antwan met Edge’s stare but only for a moment, his eyes dropped as he muttered, “He’s been happy living with Blue.”

“He has.” This was an unexpected development. Edge couldn’t recall ever seeing Antwan as less than completely confident at anything. He’d seen defense attorneys flinch when Antwan came in to a courtroom, and plea deals were often struck after opening arguments. Antwan was very nearly as skilled as Edge in keeping his expression impassive, but the unhappiness on his face was as blatant as a Human nose when Edge pointed out, “That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be happy living with you.”

“Maybe it does.” Antwan slumped back, staring moodily at the ceiling as if in hopes the answers would come from above.

Generally, Edge was indifferent to self-inflicted forms of pathetic, but since divine intervention seemed unlikely, this time he relented. “He cares about you a great deal.”

“Then why is it the only time he told me he loved me was when he doesn’t even remember doing it?”

The quiet hurt in those words made Edge pause, considering. Slowly, he said, “I couldn’t begin to guess the workings of Jeff’s mind anymore than I could Stretch. Why don’t you ask him? Just talk to him.”  
  
“But—“  
  
“Talk. To. Him.” Edge said, exasperated. Why was he surrounded by such brilliantly intelligent idiots? “I may have hit a home run with Stretch, but I can tell you most of the problems we’ve had would have been prevented with a little communication.” Like now, but this wasn’t at all the time bring up their domino fall of troubles. “You give speeches in court all the time, I have to listen to you go on about them at lunch, I know you know how to talk. Plan what you want to say to him and say it.”

“When would I have the time?” Antwan shifted enough to look at him. The way he was sprawling in the chair in his expensive suit made him look like a child playing dress up. His mournful sigh was worse, and if he and Stretch had ever been like this during their difficult beginning, Edge couldn’t believe his brother hadn’t attempted an intervention, preferably one with plenty of swearing and threats of violence. “I haven’t been able to get him away from starry little bodyguard long enough.”  
  
That was a fair point. “If you’ll make the effort to talk to him tonight, I’ll handle Blue. Start making a plan.” He glanced at the clock. It was well past noon and he still hadn’t made it to lunch. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to think of a way to convince my husband that he can’t piss me off enough to make me leave him, no matter how hard he tries.”

“What?” Edge made a mental note that the best way to distract Antwan from his problems was to introduce one of his own. He sat up straight and his expression was one of aghast dismay. “Why the hell would he ever believe that? Any idiot can see you worship that brat.”

“Yes, but Stretch is a special brand of idiot,” Edge said dryly. He might have left it there, but Antwan was his friend, and Edge admitted with some discomfort, “and I suppose I didn’t tell him in words he can understand.”

“That’s bullshit,” Antwan scoffed. “I’ve heard you tell him you love him, you two are disgusting about it! You married him for fuck’s sake!”

“Your argument is sound,” Edge agreed. “Which gives me a few decades to persuade him to my way of thinking. That being said, I’d still prefer to find a faster route.”

“Good luck with that, man,” Antwan rubbed the back of his head. “You want to head out for some lunch?”

“Thank you, but no.” The more Edge looked at remaining piles of paperwork on his desk, the less important they seemed. Particularly in comparison to his mental image of Stretch sitting at home, miserable and alone, unable to stop fretting about tomorrow, about Edge, probably about anything. “I think I’m going to call it an early day.”

That made Antwan wince. “You leaving early with nothing burnt down and no one dead? You sure you want to try and help me tonight?”

“Yes, and hopefully the trend of no property damage or homicide continues. I’ll text you later, all right?”

Antwan leaving gave him a chance to double check his emails before he shut down his computer. Edge took a moment to lean out to his office door to find Janice back at her desk, coffee cup in hand. She glanced at him expectantly.

“Janice, would you mind-“

“I’ve already rescheduled your other meeting,” she said crisply. “I’ll get the R & D reports ready for you tomorrow morning.”

“No, I’m taking tomorrow off as well,” Edge said, almost surprising himself. If he checked with Alphys, perhaps she could see them sooner than tomorrow afternoon. He suspected the only reason she’d asked them to come in so late to begin with was because of his work.

Janice’s reaction was closer to shock, but she nodded. “I’ll handle it. Go home.” It was very close to scolding.

He gave her a small smile. “Thank you, I am.” Moments later, he was headed out to his car. It was tempting to text Stretch and let him know he would be home soon, but he decided against it.

Hopefully, it would be a nice surprise.

* * *

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

When Edge turned his car down their street, he was not expecting to see Stretch and Red standing on the porch together. It sent his hackles up immediately. Red had seemed amused earlier, but he was ever mercurial and his moods could change quickly. 

Stretch’s back was to the road, but Edge saw his brother’s eye lights flick briefly to him. It was impossible to know what they were saying without one of Red’s little bugs, lip reading wasn’t much use for those who lacked lips. But their stances were loose and casual, hands either in pockets or holding cigarettes. That Stretch was standing was also good sign, at least. Red hated when anyone crouched down to his level, and Stretch was perfectly fine with doing it just to annoy him.

They were bumping fists as Edge pulled into the driveway, Red stepping back and vanishing before he could even open the door, sending his options for questioning down to one.

Stretch turned towards the driveway. In place of his bathrobe from that morning was an older hoodie of his, ratty and well-worn and track pants in the same state. On his feet were fluffy blue slippers. Comfort clothes that often made an appearance during his darker periods of depression.

It was not entirely a surprise to see, but the sight still ached.

He stayed where he was, crouching to tamp out his cigarette into the mostly-full ashtray on one of the steps. The fleetingly wary expression that crossed his face made Edge’s soul clench. He was afraid, not of Edge—

_(no, never, he never had been)_

—But of what Edge being here might mean.

Edge was more accustomed to Stretch flinging himself into his arms than he was to him staying on the porch to shuffle his slippered feet uncomfortably, hands shoved into his pockets. “hey, i didn’t go looking for him, he came here. i didn’t even text him again, so i didn’t break my promise—“

Normally, Edge loved to hear Stretch’s chatter; not now when it was struggling to be equal parts defensive and apologetic. 

Edge strode rapidly up the walkway, only making it up the first two steps before cupping Stretch’s still moving jaw in both hands to draw him down into a kiss, cutting him off mid-babble. Surprise melted quickly away and Stretch matched it, sharing a quiet sigh between their mouths. He draped both arms over Edge’s shoulders, letting Edge take most of his weight as he leaned down into him.

Breaking it was done with the greatest reluctance and Edge didn’t let go, whispered to him, “Come on.”

He climbed the last porch step, sliding past Stretch to tug him into the house. Only to grunt in his own surprise when he was pushed back hard against the door as soon as it was closed, Stretch’s mouth on his again, hot and eager.

His mouth was always temptation itself, but Edge knew this distraction, Stretch trying to bury his fears beneath sex.

He thought fleetingly of the incident on the bus a year ago, was it only a year? Of Stretch’s fear after being attacked, his desperation.

Sex wasn’t the answer then and it wasn’t the answer now. Carefully, Edge twisted away, “Stop.”

That was enough for Stretch to freeze. He raised his head, stricken, and Edge touched his cheekbone, rubbed a gloved thumb along the line of it. “I want to talk.”

It shouldn’t be amusing the way Stretch visibly deflated at that, the last balloon the day after the party, but Edge kept his face impassive. He toed off his shoes, leaving them in an untidy pile on the mat before tugging Stretch over to the sofa. 

The television was on, playing old reruns of Mythbusters. The volume was low, but it hardly mattered. Stretch could almost recite them by memory, loved all the episodes. Another sign that he was craving comfort, along with the rumpled blanket left on the sofa cushions. 

Edge took a moment to turn the television off before he sat. Stretch flopped down next to him, but Edge didn’t allow him to slump back. Instead, he pulled Stretch into his arms, lying back until they were sprawled together across the cushions, Stretch mostly on top of him with his skull settled on Edge’s ribcage. They were more on the blanket than not, but there was enough to pull it over them, tucking it in around them until they were tangled cozily together.

For a long moment, Edge only held him close, basking in the feel of Stretch’s light weight against him, the sweet aroma of his magic. Sex might be off the table, but like hell was he withholding his affection.

Until Stretch shifted, asking hesitantly, “edge?”

It was almost strange to hear his name; he was so accustomed to Stretch’s various pet names, from simply ‘babe’ and into the territory of absurd. 

"Sometimes it’s easier for me to talk about certain things when you aren't looking at me," Edge admitted. He kissed the top of Stretch's skull. “Besides, I like holding you."

Stretch nodded a little, deliberately snuggling in closer. “i’m sorry about earlier,” he mumbled, “it was stupid, i’m really stupid sometimes.” 

Gently, Edge rubbed a hand down Stretch’s spine, feeling every individual bump of his vertebrae through his sweatshirt. “Rus? Can I ask you to do something?”

He squirmed, asking with a note of curiosity, “yeah?” 

"Please, try not to talk about my husband that way.” There was a faint hitch in Stretch’s breathing, hardly more than stutter. Edge only kept up with rubbing his back soothingly. “I wasn’t lying to you earlier, but you were right, I’ve been withholding the complete truth. And I can’t complain about you not telling me things if I’m doing the same thing.”

“you don’t have to—“

“Hush,” Edge said, but he softened it with another kiss on top of his skull. “Yes. I do.

With his teeth, he took hold of the fingertip of one of his gloves, peeling it off. Carefully, he took one of Stretch’s hands in his own, bones scraping lightly as their fingers entwined. If Stretch didn’t have a choice about showing his vulnerabilities, then the least he could do was offer one of his own.

Quietly, Edge told him, "You've always been the most complex puzzle I've ever found."

He could feel Stretch smile, imagined the wry twist of his mouth. "wow, thanks."

"You're welcome because it's meant as a compliment,” Edge said, unapologetically. "I may not have liked you when we met, but you've always fascinated me on some level." Stretch shifted uncomfortably and Edge sighed. "That sounds cold, I know, but it’s the truth.” He slipped his hand beneath Stretch’s shirt, still-gloved fingertips gentle as he pet his spine in small, soothing strokes. “To be honest, it’s difficult to remember now how it felt not to love you. But I spent all afternoon trying to solve this new puzzle you've given me, and I think I have."

"i don't think i gave you a puzzle?”

"Just because it wasn't on purpose doesn't mean you didn't. And I came to realize that you don't lie to me when it benefits you. You lie when you think it's best for me."

"edge…" Weakly, unable to protest.

"I understand it," Edge told him, because he did, all too well. "I do the same. But it doesn’t work, love. You can't protect me from…well. You. And I don't want you to. I love you, all of you, and I'm not about to start picking you apart now to play favorites. I chose some time ago to love you as a whole. So what I'm asking is for you to try to be truthful with me. I'll try to do the same."

"okay." No promise, but that was all right. Edge wasn’t about to demand one that Stretch might not be able to keep.

He sighed, heavily, because this was a truth that needed to be said even if he didn’t want to. “I’m not sure what Red’s told you, so I’m going to start from the beginning.” He closed his sockets, trying to choose his words carefully. “I've been struggling with my LV lately, you know that much. It's always something I've needed to keep a tight control on, but this flare up has been particularly difficult. Seeing An…Jeff,” he amended, but he felt Stretch's reluctant smile. "Seeing him hurt, being unable to protect him was upsetting, to put it mildly. Especially knowing it could have been you."

"babe—“

Edge interrupted him, gently, but firmly, "I know you'd like to tell me that you wouldn't have been hurt, but this is how I feel, you can't argue that away."

Stretch nodded reluctantly, his cheek dragging against Edge’s shirt and Edge continued.

"Once it’s aggravated, it takes time for me to get it back under control and until then, my temper will be short. It’s especially bad when I wake up in the middle of the night,” Edge hesitated, because he didn’t even like thinking it, forcing out. “I've been worried about hurting you."

He had to tighten his grip, holding on as Stretch tried to squirm away and there was a note of real anger in his voice, “no. no, no, no, you would not hurt me, you'd never hurt me."

"And I don't want to hurt you. But accidents can happen.” It was difficult to say, and Stretch went still as Edge deliberately traced a path down Stretch’s face where he’d had his own bruises once. “It has happened and that was only from you startling me when I hadn’t been struggling. Love, I’m not exaggerating when I’m saying this is a bad one. I was close to suggesting you stay for a few days with Blue, just in case I lashed out at night."

That smaller voice, filled with unhappiness was not one he associated with Stretch, not in a very long time, “you’ve never hurt me while you were sleeping."

"Never isn't forever,” Edge said. But he gave Stretch a gentle squeeze. “And that would certainly be a last resort. I'm not about to ask you to leave our home, not if I wasn't sure it was necessary.”

“I’m telling you all this because you need to know, and it ties in to this.” Edge drew their joined hands up to his face, held them lightly against the bruises, “Sparring helps me deal with it. Exhausting it would be a good way to describe it, I suppose. I didn’t lie about that, Red and I were sparring. But I think perhaps it’s not in the way you’re familiar with.”

"if you need someone to spar with, i could help?” A little uncertainly.

"No," Edge said immediately. The very idea made a lick of heat flicker in his soul. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, love, but…I couldn't bear it if I ever hurt you." he said, quietly. "I could not. And I think struggling with the idea I might would make sparring with you pointless. Red and I have sparred since we were children, and I still worry I might hurt him, but I’m familiar with his attack style enough that it’s less of a concern."

_And I don’t want you to see me like that_, but that was a truth Edge would not be sharing.

The temptation of Stretch’s hand so close was impossible to resist. Edge pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, speaking against his palm, "I know you're concerned that he's attacking too hard. He can't go easy on me, or it won't help, and I'd rather endure a thousand bruises like this one than ever hurt you because of a LV flareup."

“but it’s helping?”

“Some,” Edge admitted. “And once we see Alphys tomorrow, that’s one less worry to stir it up.” He hoped. 

Stretch ignored that, finally twisting away from Edge’s hold to lean up on an elbow, his gaze intent. “look, i don’t know if this would help, but. have you ever thought about talking to a therapist yourself?”

Every part of him unanimously and vehemently rejected the idea. But that wasn’t fair to Stretch, not when he’d been the one to insist Stretch go when he was struggling. Even if the idea of confessing to anyone things that happened in Underfell held no appeal.

“I’ll consider it,” Edge said reluctantly.

That seemed to be enough to satisfy him. He flopped back into Edge’s arms and if he was clinging a little too tightly, Edge didn’t protest.

“There’s one other thing I want to say,” he drew Stretch in close, whispering into his audial canal, “I need you to know that even if we argue, even if I’m furious with you, you could never make me push you away. You could never make me leave. It’s easy for me to say, but I think it’s hard for you to believe.”

“i don’t…”

“That’s all right, you know. It is. I’ll simply keep saying it and eventually it’ll stick. All right?”

“okay,” Stretch agreed, grudgingly, “is that everything?”

“I think so.”

Stretch shifted, craning his neck so that his chin dug uncomfortably into Edge’s ribcage. He met Edge’s gaze, eye lights pleading as he asked hopefully, “then can we have sex now?”

Edge chuckled and hugged him hard. Stars, he loved this idiot so much. He let his voice drop into a husky murmur, “I can’t think of a reason not to.”

With a little effort, he helped Stretch wriggle free of the blanket, grunting as he caught an unruly elbow in the ribs. Until Stretch was straddling him, grinding their pelvises together through their clothes. 

That talk was one of the most difficult parts of his day, but losing himself in both Stretch’s body and his love was the simplest.

For a time, there was nothing but delicate bone against him, soft cries that poured free, unashamed and lovely.

When they were straining together, dripping with pleasure and sweat, Edge whispered desperately to Stretch, pleading hoarsely, “Let me see your soul?”

His love never hesitated, offered him that silver purity without a hint of LV, and he held it carefully in his bare hand, reverently. Held it as his husband gasped and quivered, held it as he collapsed against him, until it finally faded back, leaving Edge both content and bereft.

“I love you,” Edge whispered, the easiest truth to share, loved this precious, foolish, wonderful person.

“love you, too,” Stretch mumbled, more breath than words.

Edge only held him impossibly closer and believed him.

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

  
Much as Edge enjoying the feel of Stretch sleeping in his arms, breathing soft and even in the same rhythm as the pulse of his soul, the entertainment value eventually waned. Especially in the middle of the day. Gently, and with no few teasing kisses, he nudged Stretch awake and helped him totter to his feet, watching closely as he made his fumbling way upstairs. 

Stretch’s clothes had taken the brunt of their earlier play and Edge gathered them from where they’d fallen, grimacing at their state. They’d already been suitable for the dustbin even before, but he would add them to the laundry. Their service in keeping his own clothing free of stains was a worthy sacrifice. 

When Stretch came back downstairs, he was dressed in the spoils of raiding Edge’s side of the closet, down to his socks and even a plain t-shirt, something he rarely did. Not that Edge was going to complain; if Stretch was choosing to take his comfort from being wrapped up in his clothes, like a hug made of cotton and thread, that was fine by him.  
  
Though Edge did wonder if Stretch had noticed yet that he’d started buying his jeans a little longish and cuffing them, so that when Stretch inevitably borrowed a pair, they would fit.  
  
Stretch bypassed the last three steps to hop straight to the landing, and managed to not land on his coccyx. He dusted his hands briskly. “okay, now that that’s out of the way, what’s up for the day?”

“Do you need a moment to mark sexual intercourse off your chore chart?” Edge asked dryly.

“nah, might have to do it again, make sure it got done right.” That cheeky grin would normally have filled Edge with exasperated fondness. Today it was closer to relief. 

Edge glanced at the clock. There were a few hours before he needed to do anything about Antwan’s situation. He could get some work done, but Stretch had already spent his morning misery-binging reruns. And he still hadn’t had lunch.

“We can do whatever you like, but lunch should be somewhere on the agenda.”

“well, call me a crazy romantic, but i’m starving. feed me?”

“Gladly, Seymour.” But instead of letting him slouch back on the sofa, Edge took his hand and tugged. “Come on, you can help.”

“what? nooo, that is a terrible idea.” His socked feet slid along the carpet as Edge pulled him determinedly along. “seriously, i’m a shitty cook, babe, you know that!”

“Actually, I know no such thing.” His tactic stalled at the kitchen door and instead Edge picked Stretch up, ignoring his squawking and carrying him in. “You’re a decent baker when you try. You aren’t bad at cooking, you just don’t like it, which translates into poor effort.”

“see there!” Came from about the middle of Edge’s back. “poor effort!”

“But you’ll put in effort today, I’m sure. Since I’m injured and need your help.”

Silence, then sullenly. “dirty pool, babe.” Stretch sighed and dangled for a long moment over Edge’s shoulder before grudgingly, “okay, okay. i’ll help.”

Edge set him on his feet and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his cheekbone. “Thank you.”

“yeah, yeah. what do you want?”

What he wanted was Stretch in the same room with him, until he could be sure his dark mood wasn’t going to pull the shutters again. What he said was, “Get a loaf of the sourdough bread from the pantry. It’s marked.”

While Stretch did that, Edge rummaged in the refrigerator, “I know that mustard isn’t your preferred condiment, but I find it gives this sandwich a much-needed tang.”

“tangy, yeah, no wonder your brother likes it. got a hell of a _tang_, doesn’t he.” 

Edge hummed in agreement, unwrapped the cheese he’d chosen. Gruyere and sharp cheddar, and pulled out the grater. “I suppose that’s a way to put it. What were you two talking about earlier?”

It would be a refreshing change to have even one person in his life that responded well to the direct approach. But it wouldn’t be happening today. Stretch only plunked the bread on the counter and shrugged. “nothing.”

“Nothing. Hm.” Edge eyed the pile of shredded cheese measuringly. A little more. “The two of you stood around in silence, then. It must’ve been very boring.”

“nah, your bro is never_ short _on entertainment. “ He stole a pinch of the shredded cheese, dancing back before Edge could swat him and munching it happily. He licked his fingers and said, more seriously, “we’re okay, babe, you don’t need to worry.”

“No?”

“nope. we got an understanding, me and Red.”

Edge paused as he sliced the bread. “That sounds utterly horrifying.”

“probably is. what are we making, anyway?”

“Grilled cheese.” Eight slices of bread used most of the loaf. That was fine, he’d already planned to make more on Saturday.

“fancy.”

“Good doesn’t need to be fancy, and you like grilled cheese.”

“i like your grilled cheese.” Stretch dragged one of the stools from the small breakfast bar over and sat, chin propped up on one hand. “why do you shred the cheese?”

“I find it melts more evenly.” Edge began spreading mayonnaise on the bread slices. “Grilled cheese may not be considered fancy, but there’s no reason to not do it right.”

Stretch only nodded, watching intently as he carefully mounded the cheese on the bread, adding a slice of onion and smear of mustard. With only a little nudging, Stretch did the same and if shreds of cheese were trailing out of his imperfectly balanced sandwiches, Edge ignored it.

He set a pan to heat on the stove and waggled a finger at Stretch in a silent ‘come hither’. It was crowded with both of them at the stove, all elbows fighting for space and Stretch ignoring the toasting sandwiches in favor of trying to get a hand under Edge’s untucked shirt. In the end, they had four imperfect toasted cheese sandwiches, unevenly browned and with melted cheese clinging in long strings to fingers and mouths whenever they took a bite. 

Edge thought they might well be the best sandwiches he’d ever eaten, and his soul was calm. 

Afterward, they curled up on the sofa together to watch new episodes of The Great British Baking Show, and it never failed to amuse Edge how invested Stretch was for someone who claimed to be such a terrible cook.

“it’s a genoise sponge,” Stretch huffed. He was mostly lying across Edge’s lap, allowing him to trace the suture lines on his skull with a gentle finger. “he already over-mixed it and now he keeps opening the oven!”

“It’s going to fall,” Edge agreed. His phone lit up with a text message from Alphys, confirming that she could see them in the morning. He closed it discreetly and listened to Stretch rant as they waited to see if the poor sponge cake would be worth elimination. Honesty was important, yes, but he thought it could wait a few hours yet.

* * *

It was late afternoon and at the end of the available episodes when Edge finally told Stretch, “I need to go over your brother’s for a moment, I won’t be long.”

That dragged his attention from the Netflix menu. “my brother? what for?”

“Penance,” Edge said dryly. “I won’t be long…unless you want to come along?”

“nah,” Stretch rolled off him with a groan and settled on one of the sofa cushions, a distant second when it came to places to lay his head. “i’ve been seeing him every day since andy moved in and if i tag along, it won’t be a moment.” 

That was true. Edge took a moment to straighten his shirt, adjusting it with the sleeves rolled up, then dropped a kiss on Stretch’s skull before stepping into his shoes. 

It wasn’t a far walk and the weather was nice enough to take in the fresh air. Since he’d skipped his run that morning, he could settle for this. The sidewalks were mostly empty, only a few children still playing before getting called in for dinner, and when Edge arrived he was pleased to see the delivery he’d requested was right on time.

Blue answered the door on the first knock, beaming up at him, “Edge, hello! Did you come over for some more healing?”

“No,” he stepped inside as Blue held open the door. “Actually I was hoping to speak to you. It’s about your brother.”

That made Blue perk up like a prairie dog out of its burrow, as he’d known it would. He’d been trying to think of a plan on how to get Blue out of the house most of the afternoon, and this one had only occurred to him on his walk over. It would work, but there would be consequences, he knew. 

“What’s wrong?” Blue could always be counted on his brisk efficiency when it came to Stretch.  
  
“Nothing is wrong, exactly,” Edge said, “and he hasn’t said anything specific. But I think your brother has been missing you lately.”  
  
The stars that made up Blue’s eye lights widened into a brilliant gleam, “He has?”  
  
“Yes,” Edge said gravely. Silently, he sent up a prayer to whomever might listen to LV-scarred Monsters that his husband would forgive him for chucking him under the proverbial bus that was his brother’s concern.  
  
Blue frowned, considering, “But he’s been over every day!”  
  
“Ah, but Jeff is here. I think maybe he misses it being just the two of you. Would you mind stopping over?” Edge coaxed. “Just for a bit? I need to see Jeff for a few minutes, it should give you a little time to talk.”  
  
Blue was already stripping off his apron.  
  
Edge only watched him go, already guiltily thinking up ways to make it up to Stretch. Hopefully before his husband started contemplating the death part of till death do us part. But he couldn’t deny himself a tiny shred of smugness. Call him a bad liar.

The door was barely closed when one opened upstairs and Jeff came out, calling down, “Did you want to get started on dinner...oh! Hi, Edge.”

“Hello,” Edge said evenly. “Blue stepped out for a moment. I can’t stay long, but I wanted to give you this.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a key ring.

If he had to guess, Edge would think that a year ago, Jeff wouldn’t have squealed in delight in front of him, dashing down the stairs to reach for the keys.

Edge definitely wouldn’t have deliberately held them higher, out of his reach. It made Jeff laugh and give him a little shove, “C’mon, you shit, give!”

“I’m sorry, I must be having trouble with Human customs,” Edge told him blandly, holding them higher as Jeff made to jump for them. “That didn’t sound at all like thank you, Edge. I appreciate all your hard work, Edge. Please let me have the keys to my new car, Edge, I will forever be grateful.”

That earned him a somewhat tremulous laugh. “Thank you, Edge.” Jeff’s smile was nearly as bright as Blue’s eye lights. “I mean it. Thank you, for everything. For the job, getting me into New New Home—

And that was enough of that. “We’ll see if you’re thanking me after the first public relations crisis. Now, come look at your car.”

He followed Jeff outside to the sedan parked in the driveway. It was as green as grass, with top of the line safety features, and Edge was about to remind him of his promise about seat belts when his phone buzzed.  
  
_what in the name of fuck did you tell my brother, you asshole! you just bitched at me and now you’re pulling this??? _  
  
The variety of angry emoticons that followed made him wince and Edge hastily texted back. _That you missed him so Antwan would have a chance to speak to Jeff in private so they can work out whatever their problems are._  
  
There was a long pause and then, _you’re lucky. next time let me in on the schemes to dupe my bro._

His sigh of relief was heartfelt. Sofa banishment averted, this time. While Jeff was busy examining his car, Edge took a second to send a text to Antwan that the coast was temporarily clear.

Now it was up to him.  
  


* * *

_Marrow hitting the snow, steaming wet crimson, and screaming, endless screaming. He can’t see, can’t find his brother, and there is so much screaming—_

Edge woke with a gasp, his soul hot and throbbing, lying on sheets soaked with his own sweat as he struggled to breathe in the cooler air.

“edge?” 

He jerked at the sound of his name, barely registering the hushed concern. Stretch was on the far side of the bed, making no attempt to touch and there was the faint crackle of his own magic in reach, ready for a hasty shortcut.

That was good, yes, allowed him to relax a little. That was the promise he’d gotten from Stretch the night before. They could sleep together if Stretch promised him he’d go if he thought…if he were afraid…if it seemed like a bad episode.

"Talk to me," Edge said. His voice was in ragged threads and he was still concentrating on taking deep breaths, but he desperately wanted to hear Stretch. "Tell me something unusual. Something hardly anyone knows."  
  
Stretch’s eye lights flickered as he blinked. “um. okay…did you know that there are five recognized dwarf planets in our solar system?”

Perfect. “I did not know that.”

“yeah, i mean, personally i think that’s some bullshit and that pluto deserves to be up with the big boys again, but no one’s pounding down the door for my opinion. anyway, so right now there are five, but there’s like, a hundred or so proposed ones and—“

Edge closed his sockets and listened to the winding ramble of his husband’s voice extolling the various attributes of heavenly bodies and whether they had earned a planetary legacy. The agitated throb of his soul slowly eased, gentling to a more normal pulse. Stretch’s voice only paused once, a startled hitch when Edge settled a careful hand on his ankle, the only place he could reach.

Stretch followed that gentle tug across the bed, settling against Edge’s side without a care for the damp sheets, tugging the blankets over them. Talking about hydrostatic equilibrium and orbital eccentricity and Edge listened to that well-loved voice speaking unknown, beautiful-sounding words until the first light of dawn crept into the window, letting them chase away the night.

* * *

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

_ **Epilogue** _

There were times that Jeff felt like he was somehow living…wrong. That there were some unspoken rules that he was breaking simply by existing. He didn’t think he could explain it better than that, but sometimes it felt like everyone else around him was simply better at living than he was.

He hadn’t felt that way once since he’d moved into Blue’s house, and standing outside with the keys to his very own car in his hands, he felt like the Universe was finally giving him a break. Or maybe he’d gotten that a year ago now on a bus when he told off a bigot who was harassing a Monster who was only trying to live his own life, too.

And now he had his very first car, a nice, safe-looking sedan and he’d bet his entire Pop figure collection that it had the best safety features available. Edge, who was currently standing with arms crossed as he watched Jeff dance around, would have made sure of that.

When you first met him, Edge looked a lot like his primary emotion was irritation, with some impatience as a backup. But Jeff had gotten to know him a little better over the last year. Maybe Stretch was the linguistic expert, but Jeff had learned to read Edge’s language fairly well.

Like right now, he was full of a combination of indulgence and smug satisfaction. 

“It’s perfect,” Jeff called to him. The urge was there to throw himself at Edge and babble thank yous, but Edge wasn’t keen on either physical contact or too much gratitude. He figured the very least he could do was keep his delight throttled down to Edge’s level of comfort. 

“Of course it is,” Edge said briskly and Jeff laughed because seriously, who couldn’t tell that was Edge’s way of being funny? His humor was as dry as a glass of sawdust in the Sahara, but he could be hilarious when you spoke the language.

“Nice wheels.” 

From behind him and Jeff spun on his heels to see Antwan on the sidewalk, his hands tucked into his pockets and a bemused smile on his face. He was still in his work clothes, must not have even gone inside before he walked over.

Lately, Antwan had started staying at his house in New New Home more often instead of his apartment in town. Jeff wondered if Asgore had asked him to stay closer to the safety of the Monster community. It’d been one of the reasons they moved Jeff into New New Home so quickly. The Embassy security was concerned he was becoming a target for anti-Monster harassment. 

Not that Jeff minded; so far moving in with Blue was great.

He bounced happily over to Antwan, content to offer him all the hugs that Edge wouldn’t want, and Jeff didn’t think twice about stealing a kiss before he said gleefully, “Look at my car!”

“I can see it.” Antwan seemed a lot more interested in the kiss than the vehicle, angling in for another and Jeff melted into it. Antwan had been over to Blue’s almost every day since Jeff had been released from the hospital, sometimes even sleeping on the sofa. But he’d been…odd. Maybe just overly cautious about Jeff’s injuries? 

He wasn’t being _bad_ or anything; as boyfriends went, he was perfect. He visited, he brought presents and Jeff slept with that damn stuffed tomato every night. He _was_ kinda missing having someone a lot taller and warmer sleeping by him. 

But his anxiety was like a damned bloodhound and it was sniffing out that something was wrong. Hey, paranoid didn’t mean he was wrong.

Antwan finally pulled away from the kiss with a contented sigh, rubbing their noses together playfully as he asked, “How was your first day at work?”

“Good,” Jeff laughed. A glance showed him that Edge had made a discreet exit somewhere in the middle of them kissing. That was fine, he’d see him tomorrow. “It was mostly meeting people and finding out where the coffee machine was. But it was good! I have my own desk. Another half day tomorrow and I’m heading to ‘Classic Books’ in the afternoon with Stretch to get the last of my stuff.”

Thomas had been predictable happy for him when he visited Jeff at the hospital and learned he’d gotten a new job. He’d scoffed when Jeff tried to apologize for quitting so abruptly, especially when Jeff offered to keep working on weekends until he found a replacement. 

“Jeffrey,” Thomas had scolded, “You were never meant to stay long at my little shop. Monsters are good people, but they are lucky to have you to work for them.”

Jeff wasn’t sure about that. In his opinion, he was the lucky one. But he was determined to flip the odds; the Embassy might not have the most qualified person in him yet, but he was going to make sure Edge didn’t regret hiring him. 

He owed them all a lot, but for the first time in his life, Jeff had a chance to repay. A look at the car reminded him there he was pretty far into the red, but he was determined. He was going to live right, for once. 

Antwan slid his arms around him from behind and Jeff leaned back against his warmth. It was getting chilly and he was perfectly happy to wear Antwan like a coat. He was tall enough that he could set his chin on top of Jeff’s head, digging in a little as he buried his nose into his hair, breathing in.

It was the first time it ever occurred to him that maybe Antwan liked the way he smelled, too. Liked it and wanted to bask in it. 

A sort of constriction settled into his chest, right where Jeff knew his soul was. Maybe that was what love felt like in a soul, maybe--no. He was done wishing and hoping for more. He had enough right here, a new job, good friends, people who cared about him. Even if Antwan never wanted more than this, Jeff was okay with that. He was taking his happiness as it came, and tomorrow could go hang for a while.

“Everything is moved out of my old apartment,” Jeff told him, snuggling back against him. “Blue unpacked almost everything while I was gone. I didn’t even have to put anything in storage, my room here is almost twice the size of my old place!”

Antwan hummed softly, his breath stirring Jeff’s hair. “You like living with Blue?”

“Blue’s great. Honestly, the only complaint I have is that I can do my own laundry, but he was so sad when I tried, I let it go,” Jeff laughed. “I figured I’ll let him do it until he gets bored. Considering that I’ve had roommates who never did their laundry until it could walk to the washer itself, I’m calling this a win. Blue cooks, cleans, and he likes to watch Mettaton. He’s pretty much perfect.”

And see, there it was. Antwan didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything. He didn’t so much as twitch, but somehow, Jeff still felt like he’d said the wrong thing. He shifted uncomfortably in Antwan’s arms and to his relief, they tightened around him.

Into his hair, Antwan murmured, “I know you’ve got work in the morning, but wanna sleep over and mess around? Get up to some shenanigans?”

That made him laugh, his unease fading. Shenanigans, yeah, Blue had firmly declared there would be none of those while Jeff was recovering. But he had a clean bill of health now and his libido was starting to hint it was ready to pick up where they’d left off, and that some back payments were in order. He’d had some nightmares after…well. After everything, but lately, they were getting overshadowed by some steamy dreams that left him in need of a shower in the morning.

Still, Antwan almost sounded hesitant, like maybe he expected Jeff to say no. 

What was going on? There was something, but Jeff didn’t know how to ask. Didn’t know how to bring it up, even, not when he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. So all he said was, teasingly, “I’d love it. Shenanigans, monkey business, maybe even some hanky-panky.”

Antwan’s arms tightened again, squeezing his breath out. “At least at my place we can leave out the _skullduggery.”_

That made him groan and laugh. Yeah, he wanted this, wanted some sex, wanted Antwan’s mouth on him again, better than those chaste kisses he’d been offering lately. Fuck it, he wanted to get _laid,_ damn it. “Let me pack a bag. And I get to drive!”

For a wild second, he didn’t think Antwan was going to let him go. That he might push him into his new car and christen the backseat, fog up the windows and horrify the neighbors. But after a long, pulse-throbbing moment, he did, pushing Jeff gently towards the house. “Make it fast.”

“I am the wind,” Jeff promised, dashing inside and up the stairs. He stuffed clothes for tomorrow into a duffle, pausing to send Blue a quick text to let him know he would be gone. Finally, things were getting back to normal. 

Later that night, he lay bare against Antwan, aching pleasantly in a few key places. Drowsing as long fingers stroked his back, the skin tacky where sweat was still drying. Clever fingers, better than any dream his subconscious offered and Jeff only sighed sleepily, curling up tighter against him. This was good, it was so good, he was living right, for once, and if his subconscious offered a meek little ‘I love you’ as he drifted off, Jeff didn’t say it aloud. It didn’t hurt as much, not anymore. 

This was enough, and Jeff was determined to be happy with what he was given. 

-finis-


End file.
